


Bloodlust

by Vampykitty_kun



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Fear of Discovery, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Reboot, References to Illness, Stalking, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampykitty_kun/pseuds/Vampykitty_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The so called fits of pit rage? A theory. One Bruce had been so very, very wrong about… the man hadn’t even been close.</p><p>AU Canon compliant, post conclusion of Red Robin series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ss-penguin](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ss-penguin).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter edited and updated 06/20/2017

To be honest, this was the last thing Tim had expected… that after all this time, after being back for so long, that _this_ was the reason behind everything… behind all the anger, the fits of rage, the panic.

He sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as his ribs protested as he was pressed harder against the parapet, arms pinned behind him, with no chance of budging.

The so called fits of pit rage? A _theory_. One Bruce had been so very, _very_ wrong about… the man had not even been close.

Jason’s breath was hot at his ear, the man panting as he clawed at his front, nails raking over the kevlar lining his chest as he fumbled to dislodge the catches of his cape. Tim squirmed, trying anything, and everything to get his arms free, even if only just a moment. But the effort was wasted. The grip was ironclad.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tim could not help but wonder how the man had survived Arkham in his _condition_ , especially if he became how he was at present if he neglected his needs. Clearly there was more going on behind those closed doors than they ever could have imagined if such things were being handled, without their knowledge, under their very noses. But that was an issue to address at a later time. If of course he survived.

The sound of the clips popping broke him out of his thoughts, and he stiffened as his cape slipped and fell to the ground, pooling at his feet.

Jason groaned, quite nearly a growl, as he reached up around his neck, slipping his fingers beneath the kevlar, probing at the lining, until he found what he was searching for. Without much warning, the cold night air hit him in the chest as the front of the suit fell open, unzipped to bare his flesh. Tim could not help the panicked squeak that broke free of his lips as Jason’s hand returned to his throat, the wide expanse of it covering him, squeezing with pulsing movements.

“J-Jason… please? You don’t… you don’t _want_ to do this- _ngh_!“ Tim was cut off as the man’s hand clenched tightly around his windpipe, cutting off the flow of air.

Tim bucked backwards frantically, eyes wide as he struggled against the man’s solid grip, and Jason hissed into his ear.

Then all at once he was released. The hand gripping his throat retreated, his arms were suddenly free, and as he drew in deep gulps full of air. But before he could move, break away, do little more than breathe, he was thrust back against the stone, air leaving his lungs once more at the sharp collision of his back, and he cried out against his will at the rough contact.

Jason was upon him once again, pinning him by the shoulders against the solid ledge, looming over him with eyes far too dark… _black_ , and wide, unshielded by helmet or mask. The man raked his nails over Tim’s chest with his free hand, the first time Tim could ever recall seeing them gloveless since Jason’s revival, and he sucked in a sharp breath. The amount of scaring on his fingertips was almost as alarming as the sharpness of his nails, nails that couldn't possibly be there on a normal day, not with the leather normally covering them. The hand lingered as it rose higher, petting at his jaw, thumb nail digging at his bottom lip, and Tim hissed as he felt it split down the center and a warm rush of liquid dribble down. He squeezed his eyes shut as the wound pulsed and tingled, the dull thrum of pain surfacing as the seconds passed. Clearly a poor idea, letting his guard down, even for the briefest of moments as Jason in that moment had lunged forward. Tim’s eyes snapped open as he felt the tongue on his chin. He watched in half horror, half intrigue as the man lapped up the flowing stream of crimson seeping from the slice, as Jason inched upward, and swiped that tongue across his lips.

He could feel his body betray him as he shuddered within Jason’s hold, and he knew the man had felt it when the whine slipped free of Jason’s throat, and quite suddenly the man was sucking at his lip, tonguing at the slit.

Tim gasped at the feeling. He could feel the flesh swell with the pressure, with the agitation Jason’s tongue caused the wound he himself had created, and he shoved roughly against the man’s chest attempting to dislodge him with no avail.

When Jason did finally pull away, it was merely to change location, moving to nuzzle at his neck, breath tickling Tim’s ear once more. Tim swiped his own tongue over his lips, cringing at the coppery residue, and winced as the swollen flesh protested at the touch.

He pounded his fists against Jason’s chest, thrashed his legs about, and squirmed beneath the grip on his shoulders as he resumed pleading now that his mouth was no longer occupied.

It fell on deaf ears, and Tim could not even be sure that Jason understood him in his bloodlust state, noting that the man had yet to speak, only having uttered the few feral sounds that had broken free over the course of this encounter.

He was beyond terrified, wishing he had simply taken Leslie’s advice to heart, and had hung up his cape for good. He had known that continuing his vigilante work _would_ kill him, that without his spleen it would be a sure thing and in the near future if he wasn’t incredibly diligent and proactive, but he never would have guessed that it would be Jason- at least not like _this_ , that would do him in…

He could feel Jason’s heated breath against his throat, the man’s nose nudging against his carotid, and his stubble grazing against his clavicle. He could feel his own pulse skyrocket with the knowledge of what was coming, and suddenly it was hard to breathe, the panic welling up in his chest so severely that it physically hurt.

It would only take one bite, that he was convinced, regardless of how the virus worked. It was _always_ a virus, and his immune system was shot, even with the plethora of pills he took each day. This would be it.

Except… he had already had Jason’s mouth, _his saliva_ , on his lips mingling with his blood, and he felt no different. Perhaps it really was solely within the fangs? It was a longshot, that he knew, but it was better than simply submitting and accepting his fate.

He slid his hand down Jason’s side, gasping as the man practically purred at his touch, and he flushed deeply as he fumbled at the man's thigh, unlatching pouches, and rummaged through them.

He felt Jason’s mouth open against his throat, and his hot, slick tongue brush against his flesh, and _knew_ that if he was going to act, it would have to be then.

He clamped his fist down, whimpering as the kriss he had located sliced through his palm as though it were butter, and blood oozed from the wound. Jason’s grip on his shoulder tightened, jaw snapping shut as he inhaled sharply, and Tim dropped the knife to the ground.

He bit his swollen lip as he shoved against Jason’s chest with his uninjured hand, and was somewhat surprised when the man budged slightly, just enough for him to slip the other hand up in front of him, directly into Jason’s line of sight.

His offer was _not_ turned down.

Jason snatched him by the wrist with no hesitation, and in a flash had Tim’s palm pressed against his mouth, lapping and sucking as Tim watched with lidded eyes.

Tim wasn’t sure how he should feel about this… about this new development in the man before him.

He knew that this in no way meant that he would make it out of this alive, that he could very well be only buying himself time, and he knew that he should not be relishing in each stroke of Jason’s tongue, or the grind of the firm thigh between his legs, but he could not help the pants that left his lips.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d begun clinging to the man’s jacket with his free hand.

Nor that he had wrapped a leg up around his hip.

And he surely could not say whether or not it was of his own free will, or if he was under Jason’s influence, because honestly? Had Jason ever pinned him as such under any other circumstances, without intent to maim him, he’d have probably put up very little fight.

Because… _Jason_.

Once upon a time, Jason had been _everything_ , and that had never quite left him, even after all the man had put him through.

But, you know, _vampires_. He had seen enough movies to know that sometimes their victims just _melted_ into their embraces.

And as the minutes rolled on, or so Tim could only assume as time seemed to be passing unbearably slow, he was surprised to find that Jason’s eyes were no longer black as coals and the teal blue was gradually starting to resurface.

He was even more surprised when Jason released his hold, and lay pressed and panting against his chest for a time…

But most surprising was when Jason pushed himself up and met his gaze, a most horrorstruck look upon his face as he looked down at the scene before him, and then… he _bolted_ , leaving Tim able to do little more than watch his form retreat into the shadows.

He sunk to the ground, legs giving out as he shook, and clutched his injured hand to his chest as he let the shock roll over him.

It was well over an hour before Tim managed to compose himself enough to move from that spot, zip his suit, and secure his cape. He bandaged his hand, now crusted over with dried blood, and did not even bother trying to locate his gloves, or his cowl that had been ripped off earlier in the night before he made the long trek home.

He stripped as he stepped into his bathroom, not bothering to tuck the pieces together into a pile as he stumbled across the room, and into the shower. He ignored the sting of the water against the scratches, against his lip, and his hand as he washed the blood and dirt away from his skin.

And as he slid into bed, wrapped tightly within a fluffy robe, he _knew_ that this would not be the last of this…whatever it was, even if he chose right then to put 'Red Robin' away for good.

Because Tim _knew_ … and Jason was not one to leave that alone.

He slept fitfully that night, a miracle in itself that he managed it at all, mostly as a result of the blood loss and sheer exhaustion.

The whole ordeal repeated itself in his mind, over, and over again.

It wasn’t until the scene ended _differently_ that he awakened, his body slick with sweat, heart thudding against his ribcage.

Afterwards, he could not will himself back to sleep, for “ _Be my Robin_ ” kept echoing in the back of his mind, and he could not stop staring at his now un-bandaged hand…

A hand that only had the faintest of scars lingering to prove that it had ever been injured at all.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter edited and updated 06/20/2017

He spent the next week locked up tight in his home mulling it over. It was too much to take in, and no matter how he tried to put the pieces together, he just could not figure out _how_ \- and _when_ this could have happened.

Vampires truly existed.

Or at least something _similar_.

Jason had surely not been one _before_ his untimely demise. It just wasn’t possible, not under Bruce’s watchful eye and Alfred’s care, but that fact forced him to admit that any legends in stories and books would be no help to him here. This had to have happened _after_ his death. And as things stood he was unable to seek assistance with the rest of the family. It would have to remain his _secret_ , as if Bruce got wind of the situation, Jason would surely be collected with utmost urgency and put under lock and key, while Bruce attempted a cure that could very well be non-existent… and after seeing Jason at his worst first hand he had no doubt that there _would_ be bloodshed and potential casualties if the man was confronted.

No, Bruce would surely over-react, Dick would become obsessed with the situation and somehow some way find reason to place the blame on himself, Damian was likely to attempt a more _permanent_ means of eliminating the threat… and the added worry that _he_ had been assaulted, potentially altered, made the situation all the more worrisome. He could only be thankful that Babs was not exactly out in the field these days and that Steph was on vacation in Hong Kong visiting Cass. It put them out of harm’s way, and while Steph could definitely hold her own, she had yet to ever cross paths with Jason and now was _clearly_ not the time for introductions. How this had managed to stay off of Barbara’s radar let alone Bruce’s had him puzzled. It wasn’t as though the man was invisible on film, and not once had they come across any suspicious deaths lacking blood, or with mysterious punctures. Jason had clearly been incredibly careful or had been seeking nourishment well away from Gotham where it would be impossible to tie him to unusual murders. Sunlight apparently wasn't an issue here, whether regarding burning, or especially luminous skin... he wasn't sure what to make of that either.

It was times such as these that he wished Prudence had not gone back to the League. He could have probed Ra’s for answers. Now to do so would mean a trip across the globe, and he was seriously regretting taking down the man’s network at this point. It _figured_.

The scar on his hand unnerved him. He could honestly say that he did not feel the slightest bit different- that nothing _unusual_ had happened since that night, but all the same there was no way _humanly_ possible for the deep wound to have knitted shut in such a short time, let alone it look months old. He could only make assumptions about potential healing factors in the man’s saliva and hope that there wasn’t just some delay of infection and his days were limited.

He slept poorly if at all, a constant nagging fear that he would awake to Jason looming over him had nightmares at an all-time high, and his nerves made even drifting off briefly difficult. But as the week had rolled by and he had seen no sign of the fallen Robin, his confusion took over the fear.

Had Jason fled? Had the man assumed that he would promptly run home and out him- as he really _should_ have done, but reasoned against? Was he laying low, or was he perhaps watching him, waiting to see if he had made his move?

That thought process did little to ease his worry.

He returned to his patrol route on the eighth night all the same.

It was uneventful.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He had been lulled into a false sense of security.

All efforts to find a contact source for Ra’s had been for naught. Patrol went off without a hitch for yet another week. Bruce seemed none the wiser, and Babs had surely not said a thing, even though they _must_ have been in view of at least one of her cameras. He suspected that the girl that had been running with Jason in the last year had something to do with that- which raised all sorts of additional concerns. He had almost forgotten about her. Now he wondered if she _knew_ \- if she was like him now as well.

With everything flitting through his mind on repeat he had let his guard down again. He had allowed himself to relax just the slightest bit, and it was perhaps this that allowed Jason the opportunity to corner him amidst the takedown of an attempted robbery.

He hadn’t even seen Jason until after the fourth and final assailant hit the wall beside him with a sickening crunch of broken bones as he was quickly zip tying the third, and he was rather certain his heart skipped a beat in terror before it quickened and thrummed painfully in his chest.

Being caught off guard had the dread swell up in his chest, and he rapidly looked for some way to escape the pending situation, but it was a lost cause… Jason had him trapped in the dead end alley, just as _he_ had managed to corner the thugs. He could attempt an aerial escape, but Jason would surely be on his tail the moment he fired the grapple, if of course he didn’t just outright cut the line as he had seen him do _plenty_ of times in the past.

He was given no further time to think as the man hurled himself at him. Any other time the Red Hood helmet would not have bothered him, but now? Now that he knew what Jason was him not being able to see what state of mind the man was in at present was terrifying. He swung his staff out before him, rolling to dodge the oncoming fist, and barely had a second’s notice before a boot struck him in the chest and forced the air from his lungs. Even with the armor plating the impact left him gasping, and he hit the ground back first with no time to avoid the man’s grasp.

He hissed as he was hoisted upward, yelped as his arms were twisted behind his back, and stumbled as he was force led away from the scene he had already called in, unable to break the tight grip.

Jason launched his own grapple catapulting them into the air. When they touched down on the rooftop the hold was released, and Tim wasted no time in breaking away, making a mad dash across the tar towards the scaffolding- that he never reached. A fist wrapped around his cape and jerked him backwards away from the edge and his efforts to unhitch the holds fell short as he was slammed face first against the brick wall. His cheek burned as it rubbed against the ragged surface, and he gave a shout as his shoulder popped from the socket with the forced pressure of his twisted pinned arm. He panted as the pain seared from the strain and sucked in a sharp breath as Jason frisked him with his free hand. His stomach dropped as a metallic crunch sounded, and he gazed down with dread to see the com he had resumed wearing the past week in pieces at his feet, effectively cutting him off from any potential aid.

The cowl was ripped from his head in one brisk movement. Sweat dampened hair fell over his face, plastering against his brow, and the burn in his cheek only intensified. All at once he was spun around to face him and he cursed at the white hot pain that radiated across his shoulder. Jason tilted his head observing him briefly, and Tim squeezed his eyes shut mere seconds before his arm was wrenched and shoved none too gently back in place with an audible snap.

Before he could clear the stars from his vision, Jason pressed forward, wrapping a hand around his throat and pinning him back against the wall. He swallowed thickly and reached up to claw at the man’s arm as Jason leaned in towards him. The lenses of the helmet reflected his panic stricken face back at him and he slammed a fist against the Hood’s chest in weak attempt at dislodging him.

A low growl echoed from the man and Tim sucked in a sharp breath that was promptly cut off with a squeeze.

“Who have you _told_?” He snarled, all but confirming that he had indeed fled the city with the prospects of a manhunt. “What is _he_ planning?”

Tim swallowed again, heart hammering against his chest as he bit his lip, and tugged harder on the man’s arm. Jason let out a low hiss and lifted him higher on the wall until his toes just barely touched ground.

“ _Tell me!_ ” The man roared, and despite himself Tim flinched hard.

“I-I _didn’t_ …” He stammered, heaving inward as the grip loosened just enough to speak and get a breath in. “Honest- I wouldn’t know _what_ to say, what they would _do_ …”

“You’re _lying_.” Jason snapped, and Tim let out a sharp gasp as the man bounced his skull against the brick in agitation, gritting his teeth as he blinked away the added pain.

“Why would I?” He groaned, digging his fingertips into Jason’s leather clad forearm. “What would I tell them? How would I explain me knowing- tell them what _happened_ , without them detaining _me_ as well?” He muttered.

Much to Tim’s surprise at this he released him promptly, and he wheezed as he filled his lungs and braced himself against the wall.

“ _We’ll see…_ ”

And Tim barely had a chance for his eyes to grow wide before Jason had a fist full of his hair and everything went black.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long while I finally updated this fic and will hopefully continue to do so. I had a long rough past 2 years and spent the last year without an in-home internet connection. I hope things will only continue to improve. In the mean time, I did want to let everyone reading this know that I also added to chapters 1 and 2 and posted the newest versions. After all this time you probably want to go back and re-read them anyway, but thought I would let people know.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He awoke in a heap upon the rooftop with the cowl back upon his head covering his face. His head throbbed dully and the previously dislocated shoulder ached something fierce. But all things considered, he was _fine_. A quick glance down into the alley confirmed that the GCPD had already come through the area and had hauled away the thugs, none the wiser that he had been unconscious up above.

Small miracles he supposed...

It was with great effort that he hauled himself home and slow going without use of his grapple line. But he managed it and stumbled through his window practically on auto pilot before stripping on the way to his bathroom.

No one ever visited that was in the know let alone normal civilians. He figured his gear could wait until morning, and if by some chance it was this lax in security that got him outed, well, then it was _clearly_ meant to be.

As he lay plastered against the shower wall with the hot water streaming over his throbbing shoulder he began to genuinely rethink about hanging up the cowl for good. At least then chances of assault happening _within his home_ were raised. Not the healthiest of thoughts he supposed, but maybe then he at least wouldn't end up laying motionless and defenseless on any more random rooftops.

He ended up face down on his bed, sprawled out on top of his blankets, not caring if his hair got the pillows damp. It was a miracle in itself that he had managed to slip a pair of boxers on before crashing all together.

He might have slept deeply... but the nightmares had him waking just as exhausted the following day.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He could not be certain whether he was just being paranoid or if there really _was_ something just very off from then on out. Having been a member of the Bat-team for so long he was hyper aware of his surroundings, and he just could not shake the feeling of being watched. Whether Jason was following through with his threat of “we'll see” or it was a figment of his imagination expecting Jason to be watching him, he didn't know. Regardless it had him twitchy, and by the third day he was so exhausted and on edge that he really couldn't be blamed for over reacting- at least by those in the know.

The general Gotham population? Well there he wasn't so lucky...

He had forgotten all about Vicki Vale and her pursuit of making his life public knowledge, and miserable.

Tim had felt someone come up behind him just barely twenty feet from Wayne Tower's entrance, had seen the faintest bit of brisk movement out of the corner of his vision, and while absolutely shocked that this was happening to him on a public street in broad daylight with a massive crowd, he had jumped and swung without first _seeing_.

His fist had hit the cameraman right in the jaw with a sickening crunch- _dislocated no doubt_ , and he had gaped in horror at the sight of the man screaming as knelt on the ground clutching his face, camera busted on the cement at his side. Vale was in an equal state of shock behind the man, eyes wide and unable to fully process what had just happened, until of course she had managed to shake it off faster than him. She dialed 9-1-1 while he stood there sputtering, and by the time she had hung up he was babbling his utmost apology, vibrating as he dropped his remaining crutch and sat on his knees beside the man.

“I am _so_ unbelievably sorry, I didn't know, _honest_ , I just heard someone run up behind me and I panicked, trust me, I did _not_ intend to punch _you_ as a camera man, I meant to punch a stalker-” at this Vicki suddenly smirked, tilted her head back slightly, and he blanched further “n-not that I _have_ a stalker, I'm just a bit jumpy, and I'm....I'm just really, _really_ sorry. I'll pay your entire medical bill- and for your camera... I'm so sorry...” He groaned, running a hand down his face in mortification.

Of all the things to happen the last thing he needed was _this_.

He supposed he should be grateful that he had not punched _Vale_ in the face instead. Riots could have broken out, and the Wayne lawyers would be even more heavily burdened than they were probably about to be.

Bruce was going to _kill_ him.

Or, well... stare at him judgmentally, probably secretly wondering if he had done it on purpose. Because he was _different_ now in his eyes, questionable, untrustworthy...

Tim felt sick.

Vale on the other hand looked far too happy for the current situation which didn't bode well for him.

“Oh it's no problem _Mr. Wayne_ , I know you didn't _mean_ to go after my camera man, you are not at all like the every day celebrity. You _don't_ get drunk, or aggressive, or vengeful and get violent with us...” she nodded, and despite himself all he could do was blink. “No, otherwise you would have started swinging during or after _prior_ stories. The worst you give, dear Timothy, is a glare. Just like _Bruce_.”

Tim swallowed roughly and gave a curt nod. To his relief the sirens were approaching. Any second now they would come to load the poor man up and he would be able to make his escape.

He could deal with the lawyers later...

“I- It really _was_ a mistake, Ms. Vale. I've just had a _really_ stressful month, and not much sleep... deadlines you know...”

He could tell she didn't believe him in the slightest as she grinned at him.

“Oh, I'm _sure_...”

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

When Tim had _finally_ managed to make it into Wayne Tower, he was ashamed to admit that he spaced out almost the entirety of the business meeting, and Tam- bless her heart, managed to give him enough of a lead for him to comment towards the end and wrap things up awkwardly, even despite her cold shoulder.

The trip home was strenuous, having wrenched his injured shoulder in the reporter scuffle, and by the time he finally managed to get through his front door he whipped the crutches across the room in a fit of frustration, and didn't even bother heading for the shower. He threw on a pot of tea, spent the entirety of the time it took to boil banging his head on the side of the fridge, muttering to himself about how stupid he had been, and when he finally made his way to the couch he collapsed in the corner of it a sprawl of loose limbs.

What had become of his life?

Who had he pissed off to get to this point?

Tim was tired of the pressure, of the stress, of the fatigue... he was tired of being criticized and judged by those he called family and friends. He regretted ever committing to the crutches. Some days it was quite honestly too hard to act- _pretend_.

These days all he seemed to do was pretend.

Despite the tea he still managed to pass out on the couch.

He skipped patrol that night.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Tim awoke with a start, having manged at some point during the night to make it into his bedroom, saving him even more cramped muscles, and flailed his good arm around desperately searching for the source of the incessant ringing that had startled him awake.

His heart felt like it was trying to beat right out of his chest as his slid his thumb across the screen, and slurring he plastered the phone against his ear. He was never so grateful for blackout curtains than he was on this morning.

“ e'llo?” He grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“ _You punched a reporter?!_ ” To Tim's surprise it was Dick's voice on the other end of the line.

But even more so-

“I- _What?_ ” he stumbled over his words, sitting up abruptly- which turned out to be a bad idea as dizziness washed over him from moving too quickly so soon after waking.

“ _It's all over the TV Tim. You_ _ **punched**_ _a reporter. Or at least the guy holding the camera. It's all over the news. They have you on camera- at least until it hit the pavement, and then the video cuts out._ ”

He whined and let his head fall back against the headboard.

“Oh my _god_ , I can't believe I held out hope that the footage died with the camera...” he groaned. “In my defense I didn't know I was hitting a _reporter_ , I just knew someone was following me, heard them coming up behind me, and thought I was about to get jumped.”

“ _In broad daylight? In a crowd?_ ”

“I was tired and hadn't had enough coffee yet...” he muttered.

“ _Your only saving grace is that Vale went on to say_ _ **that**_ _, not that it stopped her from making the story obviously, but on the plus side they are_ _ **not**_ _pressing charges. Alfred's already gone through the motions of paying the medical costs and replacing the poor guy's equipment. You really clocked him good. Someone's going to be eating through a straw the next few weeks..._ ”

“Oh my god, _Dick_ , why...”

“ _Exactly what I want to know, why?_ ” The man probed, and suddenly Tim wanted to just smother himself in his pillows, because he knew what was coming. “ _ **Are**_ _you being stalked? Because Vicki went into detail about how you had been afraid recently, weren't sleeping, and had been jumpy- causing you to over-react when they approached you._ ”

And yes, hadn't _that_ been a stupid case of rambling for the record books...

“No, Dick, I was flustered and freaking out because _I punched a civilian_ and trying to come up with some excuse that didn't lead to several months of sitting in court with lawyers.”

“ _Well, it_ _ **did**_ _work_.” The man laughed.

“Except now I'm yet again I'm poor Tim Drake-Wayne worried for his life, while I'm still in crutches from the _last_ time, and the last thing I need is pity or for Wayne Enterprises to get all flustered and start trying to demand I have a body guard because they don't _know_.”

Dick sighed.

“ _Bruce can handle that. If_ _ **he**_ _doesn't get a body guard after all the stuff that's happened to him rather than 'Batman', they sure can't try and force one on you. It'll work out, you'll see. But_ _ **only**_ _if you're sure you're_ _ **not**_ _being stalked- it's okay to be embarrassed Tim, but Bruce has had his fair share of crazies try and follow him around, it's nothing to be ashamed of if something_ _ **is**_ _up._ ” He chirped lightly.

Tim only glared at the dark ceiling.

“I'm hanging up now.”

There was only laughter as he tapped his screen. Then only silence once more.

He wasn't getting out of bed...

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find updates on fic progress- among other things, on my tumblr: vampykitty-kun.tumblr.com

Things did _not_ blow over- not that Tim had expected them to. After the first twelve hours of phone calls and text messages, and fighting the urge to smash the phone to pieces, he simply turned it off and threw it in the drawer beside the bed.

Sure enough Wayne Enterprises was flustered, the secretaries running around like headless chickens, and as he had expected no one seemed to want to just let things go and blow over. No, of course not. They preferred to lecture him. To try and assign him a guard. To try and persuade him to see a _therapist_ \- as though he could actually tell the truth about anything that had occurred over the last several years. They would give him the next available padded cell at Arkham if he tried, doctor-patient confidentially his ass... Of course too many of the employees had noticed how worn down he had looked the past several months. How he spaced out during meeting and phone calls. Him secluding himself away from almost anyone at work that didn't have the last name 'Fox', and how even then Tam avoided him when possible.

And of course he couldn't just deny having a stalker- _no_ , because Vale had publicly used it as his excuse for the assault.

Dick had clearly filled Bruce in on things as well, as he never once heard from the man.

Continued radio silence it was then...

Not that he should really be _surprised_.

How many times in the past had Bruce cut people out of his life? _Plenty_. Perhaps it hurt more knowing how close they had been compared to those other people.

He ate a half-assed dinner in silence.

He could barely taste it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

He hid inside for the next two days. He was far from being in the mood to deal with people. He perhaps should have been worried about so many days of patrol missed, but with two Batmen, a Robin, a Batgirl, _and_ a Catwoman running around he was sure that he wasn't actually needed. After all, Red Robin had done his job. Bruce was back.

Unless something truly out of the ordinary popped up he highly doubted that anyone would be requesting his assistance.

But it really went to show just how spaced out he was, because while he felt no shame for abandoning his post to others of the Bat-clan, he hadn't for a moment stopped to think of how _Jason_ would take things, and really that _should_ have been a priority.

Staying home in bed solved zero problems.

It in fact had the potential to create them.

Something he only realized when he woke with a start to find one Red Hood looming over his bed with a glock pointed at his face.

The world would have to forgive him for the high pitched squeak that left his lips, but he was sure it was judging him for falling backwards off the bed, nearly braining himself on the nightstand.

To prove his point even Jason let out a snort of disbelief.

Tim could only look up at him gaping, rubbing the shoulder he had slammed into the edge of the table, waiting for something to give. He flinched when Jason took a step forward, and again he found himself really cursing that damn helmet because everything was made all the worse by being unable to see the man's face. Jason cocked his head and stepped forward- faster than he could register.

Much to Tim's horror he found his chin being tilted upward by the head of the pistol. His throat worked anxiously, as if swallowing down his nerves and fear, hands splayed across the carpet frozen. He stared up at the reflected eyes of the helm and felt a burning flash of shame at how utterly _done_ he looked. It was one thing to go out into public slathered in makeup to cover up how pale he was, the dark rings under his eyes that stuck around even after far too much sleep to compensate, with enough caffeine buzzing through his system to mask his bone deep exhaustion, and an entirely different situation all together to see him in the privacy of his own home after days of seclusion. Now he was bare- and he looked like _shit_. That helmet only continued to mock him.

“If you're here to knock me unconscious again I should probably let you know that I've already spent the past three days in bed, so really, I've spent more time out of it than reasonable already...” He muttered.

“ _Clearly_. You look half dead.” The man huffed. “ _I_ would know.”

Tim sighed.

“ _Lovely._ ”

Despite the banter there was no letting his guard down. The gun was still pointed at him, he was at a severe disadvantage, and Jason was being cryptically silent.

Not a good sign.

Jason _enjoyed_ being chatty.

The staring match seemed to go on forever.

“You really _didn't_ tell.” The Hood broke the silence without warning, and despite himself Tim jumped a little.

“I already told you that!” He snipped, and in the moment he could care less how pissy his face looked. “It wasn't in _anyone's_ best interest.”

“Because you have oh so many reasons to tell me the truth, right?”

Tim could practically _hear_ the eye-roll.

“You certainly haven't given me any, that's for sure. It's not as though I even have much to tell. I have no idea what's going on, just theories, and no facts.” He sighed, wondering if it would be wise to chance pulling himself back up on the bed, or if it would be that break in focus to get him lunged at. “I guess the number one question at the moment though is, why do you believe me _now?_ ”

Jason huffed, and to Tim's surprise he reached up with his free hand, and began pulling the gleaming red helm off. He found some comfort in the man's eyes being their usual shade and not the dark abyss they had been the night this had all started. He was _not_ however willing to make bets on whether the look on Jason's face meant murder or amusement however. He supposed with him it really could be both.

“I had a heart to heart with _Bruce_ today...” He grinned, and Tim supposed Jason enjoyed the fact that someone knew- that someone was properly afraid now, because it was all teeth. “At the docks. Blew a warehouse to pieces. Really, he should _thank_ me. I have no idea how much coke was mingled in with the pallets of sand bags, but the GCPD are either in cahoots or idiots. In all honestly probably _both_. Very few people worth a damn at the department and they're all Gordon's best. The rest are useless. Kept an obscene amount from hitting the streets tonight. Some casualties. Mass property damage. Judgmental bat-glares all around. But the point is, if Bruce had _known_ he never would have acted like everything was just as fucked up as usual. He would have done _everything_ in his power to try and bring me in. He would have monologued, suddenly convinced that everything was beyond my control, that I could suddenly be _saved_. But he was just his usual unbearable self.” The older man spat, curling his lip with a snarl.

Tim sucked in a deep breath ans slowly pulled himself up to perch back up on the mattress. He looked up to see Jason following him with his eyes and barely suppressed the shudder.

“Good. I told the truth. Mind leaving?” he growled, despite the potential seriousness of the the situation.

The man snorted.

Well, it had been worth a try he supposed...

“I wouldn't have come for you in a broadly lit street let alone one so crowded you know. Punching the man was a bit of a an _overreaction_ on your part. Lucky no one's suing...” He paused, seemingly only amused by the glare on the younger man's face. “If I had _wanted_ you dead I would have slipped in while you were sleeping. No witnesses. No collateral damage. Of course, I'd let you wake up first- pointless if you died _without_ knowing it was me... that saved Bruce once, but that's getting off topic. If I wanted you _dead_ there wouldn't be _any_ stopping me. So _don't_ give me a reason. You're of more use to me alive than you are six feet under...”

“And that's supposed to reassure me?”

“Just telling you how it is, _Tim_.” He smirked, and suddenly a clawed finger was under his chin forcing him to meet the man's eyes. “This could be just what we needed...”

And with the Jason was snapping the helmet back over his head, and before Tim could react- not that he would have prolonged his visit any further regardless, Jason had vanished out a previously closed window.

“. _..we?_ ”

One thing was for sure...

He was going to electrify his entryways.

 

 


End file.
